Vanished
by LBrain
Summary: One minute John was standing next to Sherlock the next he is in a barren wasteland and has no idea why.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One: **

Blackness hit me, that is all that I can remember. One moment I was standing there watching him standing revolver in hand and the next the blackness hitting me like a bullet. Then all of a sudden I found myself here in this barren wasteland standing staring at bright blue sky bleached by sunlight.

The blue sky was blank and empty, a blank canvas upon which I would stare for the next few moments trying the connect thoughts together about what had just happened. The fact was that I had no paints to paint this blank blue canvas with ideas of my sudden existence in this mysterious land.

I had no ideas whatsoever about what had just happened, just questions, questions and more questions that pounded in my head screaming for answers.

What had just happened? Had I been shot in the head so that death was instantaneous and was I to be stuck here forever? Have I just been brutally attacked and now hallucinating? Am I just simply dreaming?

And of Sherlock, what has happened to him. Was he here too or was he back in London? Or stuck in his own nightmare?

I began to walk, with no destination apart from the forever lasting horizon in front of me. Below my feet the dried ground was cracked and dead. I could see nothing around me at all. The land was unbelievably empty, as if a wind had come and sucked away everything into a vacuum, like a certain vacuum sitting in Baker Street ready for one of Sherlock's absurd investigations into the many uses of vacuums in murders.

I write this from sitting on the hard, roasting ground in my pocket book with the old biro that I, by some miracle, have in my pocket that I had there by luck when I… vanished.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two:**

The day appears to never end, I have completely lost track of time so no wonder. As well of losing track of time I have now run out of ink in the biro I was using in my pocketbook, so that's my only entertainment in my slow death gone.

I have no idea of what to do, do I just wait here for death or attempt to find some logical solution to the reason for my presence here and how I can escape this place. What would Sherlock do?

Then the first logical idea that I have had since finding myself here pops into my head: I should use Sherlock's methods.

The sun: that would be evidence of whether it is real time here in this living hell or not. I look at it to see if it has changed position in the sky or not. It appears to not have, is this a hallucination? Further examination would prove this to be true or not.

Is there any other life here? I decide to walk and see what I come across instead of just standing here as I am now.

As I walk the ground below me feels increasingly hard and cracked. The sun seems to become increasingly hotter and it bleaching affect upon the sky seems to increase. Is it physically possible for it to be this hot? Afghanistan seems cold compared to this and I never thought I would be saying that.

After what feels like forever I come across what looks like a structure of some sort in the distance. Maybe this is hope for me, maybe Sherlock is there waiting for me.

It appears to look like a small cottage made of stones, crumbling away like my life surely is now, that has been abandoned for a long period of time.

As I get close to it I begin to feel ever increasingly fatigued. My throat feels like it is dried up and my head aches and feels like the water is being drawn out of it forcefully. If luck is on my side I will maybe find nourishment and some sort of drinkable fluid there, maybe if I'm really lucky Sherlock will be there.

I finally reach the rotten wooden door (this is real life because there is bacteria there to cause the door to biodegrade?) and fall against it instead of simply using the handle. It falls open and I go down with it. Bashing my head on the floor I shut my eyes in pain. I open them and look above me.

Sherlock is staring down upon me, apparently unaffected by the inhospitable conditions.

"Hello John".


End file.
